


A Darkness in Me

by Chrysaora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Breeding, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Doppelcest, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Force Visions, Forced Orgasm, Futanari, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Lactation, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Nonconathon 2020, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24776848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora
Summary: The darkness beyond beckons. It sings, and it tempts, and it calls out with the honeyed tones of a mother or a lover…or perhaps a sister.
Relationships: Dark Rey/Rey
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	A Darkness in Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [servicetopthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/servicetopthor/gifts).



Beyond the door is a well of darkness. She can see nothing, and more to the point, she can _sense_ nothing.

Yet. And yet. The darkness beyond beckons. It sings, and it tempts, and it calls out with the honeyed tones of a mother or a lover…or perhaps a sister. _Come to me, Rey,_ the voice says, _and be with me always. We are as one, you and I._

This is a dream— _the_ dream. And because this is _the_ dream, she finds she cannot resist the voice’s seduction. “It’s only a dream, and a dream cannot hurt me,” she reminds herself as she pushes blindly forward into the darkness, the darkness absolute. One tentative step, then two steps, then three, and she has plunged into it, like a surging headfirst leap into bottomless, icy black waters, and the darkness, the darkness absolute, overtakes her, envelops her, swallows her whole…

…and abruptly spits her back out again into someplace new.

The quality of darkness here in this new place is different, less a watery well than a misty veil, a misty veil which tickles and tantalizes her skin with cool, moist tendrils, which shivers and parts to reveal a shadowy figure.

Her. It’s _her_.

She is seated upon her throne, and the hood of a cloak conceals her face. She is dressed entirely in black. Her cloak is black; her gown is black. It is a soft, velvety black, of a luxurious kind which Rey herself has never worn, for such a black would never stay black in the harsh, bleaching light of Jakku’s desert sun. Languidly, the shadow figure lifts a hand. The fingers of the hand are tapered and graceful. Feminine. The crescent moons of the nails are neatly trimmed. She beckons. Rey feels herself carried forward until she is stood, unmoving, _unable_ to move, at the foot of the throne.

The shadowy figure rises from the throne and lowers her hood. She wears Rey’s face. Her lips—Rey’s lips—part in a faint, enigmatic smile. Her power holds Rey fixed in her gaze as she parts the folds of her cloak, revealing the elegant sweep of neck, the ripe swell of breasts beneath the black gown, the narrow, belted waist, the full, voluptuous hips. She pauses for a moment to recapture Rey’s eyes with her own. Then she lifts the hem of her skirt.

The gesture is not seductive, but neither is it meek. It is merely meant to show.

Framed by a tangled thatch of dark hair are the genitals of a man. There is a penis, thick and quiescent, and behind it a heavy scrotum, hanging low and loose. And that is not all. With the subtlest, most graceful of gestures, not the least bit coy, she shows Rey that she possesses the parts which make her a woman as well.

Rey is confused at first, and she chances a look down at herself, to remind herself that she and the shadowy figure are not literal mirrors of one another, and to confirm that she too has not suddenly, inexplicably acquired a penis. But no, she has not. “Who are you?” Rey asks.

The shadowy figure does not immediately answer, but her enigmatic smile does not waver. The penis is lifting, Rey realizes, and lengthening. The scrotum tightens, and the foreskin peels back, revealing a tapered, glossy crown. A droplet of clear fluid hangs from the tip and begins to fall in slow-motion, a pretty, glistening string, entrancing, hypnotic—

Her eyes flash a noxious gold, irises flat and reflective, and her smile widens, revealing a mouthful of unnaturally sharp teeth. She snarls and hurtles forward, the movement too fast to perceive, and pins Rey to the wall.

Rey wants to scream as her thighs are spread wide, but she is frozen, incapable of movement, of escape, and there is a hand on her throat, and she can hardly draw in enough air to _breathe_. The erect penis slips between her labia and pushes unerringly inside, slicing through the paltry resistance of her previously unbroken hymen. The penetration is like a sharp punch to the gut, and the girth stretches and opens her more thoroughly than she has ever been stretched and open before. Aaahhh, the friction, and the burn, and the depth—! Rey is lifted off of her feet by the force of the thrusts, toes scrabbling for the ground and not finding it, each endless push in hammering at her swollen cervix, each agonizing pull out catching on the vulnerable, raw edges of her entrance. Ooohhh Gods, she would groan if she could, but even that is denied her…!

She feels the ejaculation when it begins, searing hot as lava and profuse, filling her, filling her, filling her, until she thinks that, no, surely not, surely she can be filled no more, and yet still it fills her, a flood within her womb. There is pain in this act too, of course, as she is overfilled practically to bursting. But there is also a savage pleasure, for each new spurt of semen is accompanied by a vicious, grinding thrust of the shadowy figure’s hips, her pubic bone mashed into the engorged bud of Rey’s clitoris. Rey cannot prevent the orgasm that shivers through her, the most intense of her life, her back to arching and the muscles of her limbs to locking at strange, tortured angles as it goes on and on.

“I am your Empress,” the shadowy figure whispers into Rey’s ear, a low, throaty growl, erotic, a parody of a lover, “and I am who you were always meant to be. _Rey, I am you_.”

Rey comes a second time, helpless and clamped down on the organ which remains inside of her, with continues to ravish her mercilessly, for now she has realized what this is all _for_ —this is a seeding, and the seeds are meant to take root within her. Impregnation. She is being impregnated by her own lineage, her own forgotten history. Together, she and her shadow will be the start of a new, dark dynasty in the Force.

The darkness within Rey herself lowers her lips to Rey’s breasts and begins to suckle. Rich milk has already begun to flow. Rey moans, helpless to resist this additional violation. No, no, no! _She_ is feeding, and as a consequence _she_ is bound to grow stronger—

And this is where and how the dream ends. Where and how it always ends. But Rey knows that, alas, nothing is over yet.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on June 23, 2020.


End file.
